


If I Ever Do I Won't Know For Sure

by Synekdokee



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anonymous Sex, Charles You Slut, Class Differences, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, aggressively dominant Erik, confused Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/pseuds/Synekdokee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young prince Charles escapes his studies (and guards) into the king's forest and comes across a stranger bathing in the river without permission. The stranger doesn't take kindly to being berated by teenaged royalty, and shows Charles his place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Ever Do I Won't Know For Sure

**Author's Note:**

> Honest to god inspired by a scene in the Silver Brumby where young and rugged Russel Crowe bathes in a stream. Mmmmrow.
> 
> Title stolen from the Who song "I've Known No War".
> 
> All my loving to Ikeracity for the quick beta.

It wasn't what Charles had expected when he begged his father, the King, to release him from his studies for the afternoon for a wild sprint in the forest. The young prince had called his horse to be saddled and headed off into the woods, his harrowed personal guard trying, and failing, to keep up with Charles as he quickly lost him in the winding paths, galloping fast and somewhat recklessly, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

There was a shallow stream splitting the dense forest, a place Charles knew well for he often snuck out to read there, enjoying the soft whisper of wind rustling the leaves and the water flowing lazily by. It was deep enough for a swim on a hot summer day, and Charles dismounted, sweaty and heated, and tied his mount to a low-hanging branch so it could graze as Charles swam.

Dropping his heavy, embroidered coat on the grass Charles approached the edge of the stream, eager to cool himself in the clear waters. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what lay in the stream.

A man, long and lean and muscled, lay in a shallow spot, his arms crossed behind his head as a pillow. His eyes were closed, and he was naked as a newborn babe. Charles' gaze trailed down the length of the stranger's body, taking in the the sun-bronzed skin, the sculpted lines of his chest and abdomen, all the way to what lay between his thighs.

Charles blushed furiously, a curl of arousal settling in his belly, his adolescent libido waking up to the sight. He swallowed and straightened his posture, and cleared his throat.

The man's eyes shot open, grey and sharp. He stared at Charles, but didn't acknowledge him in any other way.

"This stream belongs to the King."

The man smirked, but said nothing. Charles shifted nervously, annoyed by the man's nonchalance.

"You have no permission to be here," he said irritably.

The man pushed himself up on his elbows, water sluicing down his chest, catching in the dips of his collar bones. His pink nipples stood erect, and Charles' gaze was drawn to them.

"And who are you to tell others which of nature's reserves they're allowed to use?" The man sounded derisive, the curve of his mouth mocking.

Charles drew himself to his full height, standing as he'd been taught to stand in court, proud and assertive.

"The prince of this kingdom," he snapped. "And you'd do well to show some respect, before I have you dragged out of there and thrown out on your ear!"

The man barked out a rough laugh. He sat up, drawing his knees up and draping his long, wiry arms over them. Charles couldn't look away, and he hated himself for it. Lusting after a lowly vagrant or lord knew what this man was. The king and queen would tan his hide.

"Such a fine prince we do have," the man drawled, sizing Charles up with those steely eyes. "Preventing his underprivileged people from enjoying the fruits of their land."

Charles bristled, both with shame, and anger at the man for making him feel this way. He didn't have time to respond however, as the man stood up gracefully, utterly unashamed of his nakedness. Water dripped down his body, and Charles felt his cheeks grow hot as his eyes were drawn to the man's cock, soft and flaccid and wet, impressive even as it rested against the length of the man's powerful thighs. Charles licked his lips involuntarily, his own prick twitching in his breeches. He tore his eyes away, angry at himself for being so weak.

The man had seen him stare, and a predatory look came on his face. He rose out of the stream and stepped over the heap of discarded clothing that must have belonged to him. He approached Charles, his strides determined. Charles backed away, short of breath with fear and arousal.

He could have bolted, ran to his horse and galloped away, alerted the guards. Instead he let the man gain him, didn't scream for help or struggle as he grabbed Charles wrist and yanked him forwards so that Charles went crashing into the man's water-slicked chest.

A strong arm wrapped around him, pulling him flush against the man. Suddenly Charles was struggling, yet in a strangely half-hearted manner, as though he didn't quite know what he wanted himself. He pushed his palms against the man's chest, noticing the firmness, and tried to push away against the arm wrapped around his waist.

The man snarled, pushing Charles backwards and making him stumble until his back hit a tree. The man pressed hard against him, his cock half hard as he crowded Charles, his bigger body covering Charles'. He grabbed Charles' wrists tightly, pinning them up above his shoulders and caging him in between the man's arms.

Charles panted, lips parted and eyes wide. He was aroused, so hard his cock ached, furious with himself and with the man for daring to treat him in such a demeaning way. Yet he couldn't bring himself to tell the man to stop. The man pressed his hips against Charles, making him gasp.

"How old are you, my prince?" The man's voice was sickly sweet, so overly concerned it sounded insincere.

"Six- sixteen," Charles stuttered. The man hummed, dipping his face to brush his nose at the curve of Charles' neck.

"For such a young boy you have strangely fixed ideas of ownership."

The man pushed one strong thigh between Charles', forcing him to spread his legs wider and rise on his toes to avoid his swollen cock brushing against the man's thigh. The man breathed against his ear, and when he spoke his voice was soft, seductive

"Tell me, little princeling, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be owned in turn?"

Warm lips brushed at the skin of Charles' neck, making his breath hitch. His mouth was inches away from the man's shoulder and Charles itched to dart his tongue out, to taste. He controlled himself, turning his face away from the man.

"Are your guards close?" the man asked, still mouthing at the column of Charles' neck.

"I-" Charles closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "No."

The man groaned. "Good boy."

Then the man was pushing up with his thigh, pressing it against Charles' crotch, rubbing insistently. Charles cried out, his cock surging at the delicious friction as the man slid his leg, rocking his hips against Charles lazily. Charles wanted to resist, didn't want to give the man the pleasure of having such power over him, but his body had a mind of its own. Soon he found himself moving, his hips thrusting mindlessly against the man's thick thigh. 

Every denied desire, every repressed thought flew loose as he rutted desperately against the stranger. The man freed his wrists and Charles wrapped his arms around those wide shoulders without stopping to think. He clung to the man as he rode him, panting softly into the curve of his neck, ashamed of every whimper and moan that escaped his mouth. 

The man was muttering softly, cooing at him, encouraging him to move faster with filthy praise that only fuelled Charles' lust. He could feel the man's arousal against his belly, enormous and intimidating. Yet the man made no demands on it, content to only support Charles with his touches as Charles rutted away like an animal in heat.

Charles could feel his peak approaching, his balls tight, desperation curling at the pit of his belly as he clawed at the man's back to stop himself from sliding down the slope of the man's leg.

"Give yourself up for me, my sweet prince," the man murmured, one large hand splayed possessively over the curve of Charles' lower back, guiding him in his frenzied rhythm. Charles shouted hoarsely and thrust hard, hips jerking wildly as he finally came, his cock spurting inside his breeches, staining them with his seed. Charles whined softly like a wounded animal as the aftershocks shook him, his whole body suddenly oversensitive, blood pounding in his ears.

The man held him tight, stopping him from crumbling into a spent heap on the grass. Charles panted, feeling euphoric, still aroused despite his release. His mind was clamouring at him, screaming things that Charles knew were logical, about sin, about his parents, about shame and disgust, but he couldn't find it in himself to pay attention. He felt breathless, both drained and invigorated, giddy with a freedom he hadn't realised he'd claimed.

The stranger shifted, tucking Charles close as his hand snaked between their bodies to touch himself, his red, swollen cock an obscene sight. Charles leaned back, using the tree as support to stop his knees from giving out from under him. He watched, flushed and wide-eyed as the man pleasured himself with harsh strokes, face twisted into a snarl as his hips snapped forward, fucking his own fist furiously as Charles looked on in wonder.

The man came with a grunt, spilling his seed into the soft grass, his prick softening slowly in his hand. Charles yearned to touch it, to feel the velvety skin and firm flesh beneath his fingers. He didn't dare, still remembering the low burn in the man's eyes as he had overpowered Charles, remembering the spike of fear even now as he admired the bulk of the man's body before him.

The man licked his lips and stared at Charles, an unkind smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Now, your highness," the man said, the rough voice sending shivers down Charles' spine. "Which one of us belongs to whom?"

Charles had no answer - he only had lies to offer, the truth too shameful for him to utter out loud.

The man huffed out a laugh and turned, stalking back to the stream. Charles sagged against the tree, now openly admiring the play of muscles in the man's back, his firm buttocks and long legs as he knelt by the river and splashed water on himself to clean up.

Charles stayed where he was as he watched the man dress himself efficiently in simple, practical yet clean clothes. He wondered who the man was, for he didn’t look like some poor peasant, nor did he carry himself like one, his whole body dignified and disciplined.

The man shot him a look over his shoulder. "Go home, prince. Before I change my mind and decide to act according your definitions of ownership."

Charles watched him start walking down the stream. Panic suddenly gripped him, certain that if he let the man go now he would never see him again. It was far from rational, but the thought of that happening made him cold with fear.

"Wait!" he called out. The man stopped and turned to look at him, his face unreadable. Charles hesitated, then gathered his courage.

"What... what if I wanted to find you again?" He bit his lips, frowning worriedly. What if the man wanted nothing from him anymore, satisfied with his humiliation of a prince?

But the man smiled wryly, mischievous, but this time void of mockery.

"You can find me at the Royal Guard Academy. Request for Captain Lehnsherr."


End file.
